


Pretty Boy

by tiedyeflag



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Explosions, Gender Exploration, Gender Identity, M/M, Voxman, boxy is very gay for venemous, pv luvs boxy, stuffy villains' party, takes place after they've made up but before they've tied the knot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyeflag/pseuds/tiedyeflag
Summary: Professor Venomous and Boxman are at a stuffy villain's party. Boxman's antics make it more fun, leading to a bizarre series of events leading to Venomous trying on a dress. And rocking it.





	Pretty Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo I'm new to the fandom, haven't seen every episode but HAVE seen enough to ship Boxy and PV. Evil science husbands are what I live for. Also, I wanna explore PV's character in the future too so if this gets enough love I might write more. Hope I did their characters justice! :D

Professor Venomous smirked into his champagne glass as he watched the scene before him. In the middle of another stuffy villain party, there was Lord Boxman, standing proudly atop a table once covered in the best finger food money could buy, and he sang at the top of his lungs into a punch ladle like a karaoke microphone. All the other villains were either aghast, disgusted, or frozen in between. No one budged at Boxman’s loud performance.

Venomous deeply admired that about Boxman. How he was so fearless to be himself, even in a professional setting, not a care in the world. That passion, that drive, that adorable face--

Venomous shook his head. He looked away and sipped at his drink. As he swallowed, he overheard a handful of villains murmuring amongst themselves.

“Who invited that  _ joke _ ?”

“I can’t believe Cosma actually let him past the door.”

“Why the glorb is he here?”

Venomous narrowed his eyes. He was on the verge of walking past them to drop a snide remark, to make them question their self-confidence, maybe even ‘accidentally’ spill what was left of his drink on them. 

He took a single step towards them when Boxman reached the climax of his dynamic serenade, tossing the ladle straight up. It shot like a rocket, hitting the ceiling, smack on a sprinkler system with a loud CLUNK! A few electric sparks flew from it before water sprayed out. And from every single sprinkler in the gigantic ballroom.

Everyone cried as their expensive dresses and suits got soaked. Unluckily for Venomous, he stood directly under one. The cold water hit him hard, ruining his hair and soaking through his favorite jacket. 

Boxman jumped off the table, running from the scene, sticking out his tongue. Venomous wasn’t sure if it was to insult the guests or to catch the water like raindrops. He rubbed his arms as Boxman approached him.

“Heheh, got a little carried away there,” said Boxman sheepishly. Then he paused as he took in Venemous’s violent shivering. “PV? You okay?”

“Of course,” He managed through chattering teeth. “I didn’t just break a sprinkler system.”

“Then why’re you shaking like a leaf?”

“I’m just chilly. This little shower isn’t hel--ah...ah...AHKCHOO!” He sneezed into his damp sleeve. Sniffling, he cringed at the sight of his snot also staining the fabric.

Just like that, a lightbulb went off in Boxman’s head. “Crap crap crap, you’re cold-blooded! Uh, y-you need dry clothes! Yeah, yeah!”

“Boxy, we’ve been over this, I’m not--”

He was cut off as Boxman grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the party. As Venomous tripped over his feet, he wondered how someone so short could be so fast. Still, he was grateful for the movement as his body generated some warmth from all the running. He didn’t even pay attention to where Boxman was taking him.

Suddenly they burst through a door. Boxman finally let go of Venemous’s hand, and he finally gathered his bearings. As he rubbed his arms to generate heat, he looked around to see they stood in a bedroom. Not just a guest bedroom, but judging by the elaborate paintings of the party’s host, Cosma, adorning the room, it was her private chambers.

“Boxy, why on earth did you drag me here--” Venemous’s face contorted as he felt another sneeze coming. 

“Well, to get you some dry clothes--”

“Ah-CHOO!!”

“Bless you. Anyway,” Boxman placed his hands on his hips. “When we first got here, guess who slipped from the party to explore the new mansion Cosma built? And found her bedroom?” His chest puffed out. “Wouldn’t it be absolutely villainous to ‘borrow’ some of our host’s clothes?”

Venomous had to grin at that. There was that mischievous passion that he admired so very much… He watched fondly as Boxman skipped to an ornate closet and opened it up. 

It was filled to the brim with evening gowns and scarves.

Venemous’s stomach sank. Boxman, however, didn’t skip a beat. He grabbed the first one he saw off the hanger, a poofy pink one. He held it up as if already trying to imagine how Venomous would look in it. 

“Boxman, I am NOT wearing that.”

“Yeah, pink’s not your color.” Boxman tossed it to the ground. He then pulled dress after dress, each of different color and cut. “There’s gotta be something in here you can change into.”

“Boxman, I’d rather freeze to death than wear a...ah-CHOO!!”

“Oooh, I think we found a winner!”

Sniffling, Venomous frowned, lips parting ready to retort when he stopped. Boxman held up a dress covered in glittering green sparkles. It looked like it was made of emeralds melted into fabric form. It was a full length, slender dress with delicate straps framing a modest v neck. 

“See? Green’s totally your color!” Boxman shoved the dress into Venemous’s arms. “What are you waiting for? Put it on!”

“I--” Venomous started, but found the words lost in his throat. Boxman looked so proud to find something suitable to Venemous’s tastes, as questionable as his judgment of his taste was. He practically beamed, outshining the dress in Venemous’s arms. He was so...genuine. 

And the fact that they’d be ‘borrowing’ from their host’s expensive clothes made it all the sweeter.

“At least turn around,” Venomous said.

“Oh!” A blush dusted Boxman’s cheeks as he whipped around. “Right, right!” He shuffled his feet and whistled to himself.

After the shuffling of peeling wet clothes from skin, Venomous stared at the dress. Was he supposed to step into it or...or maybe he was supposed to put it on overhead, like a tank top. Like a very long tank top. He slipped his head in from the bottom, and let the silky material fall down his body, like cascading waves. 

The fabric felt so smooth against his skin and clung to his form softly. A foreign feeling settled in his gut. A new, bubbly feeling. 

Boxman coughed. “Soooo you done yet?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Boxman turned around. And just...stared. He was as frozen as an ice sculpture.

Venomous sighed. “I know, this is ridiculous.” 

“...p...p…”

“Hm?”

“P-Pretty…”

He raised a brow. “Pretty as in, ‘pretty bad’, or…?”

“Y-You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life I can’t believe!!” 

His cheeks grew hot. Coming from Boxman, a man honest to a fault…

Shrugging, Venomous chuckled, “Well, of course, I am.”

“Oh! Oh oh oh, I have an idea!” Boxman gibbered. “What if we ‘borrowed’ some of Cosma’s makeup, too?”

He had to snicker at that. “She’d be furious...that’s a dastardly idea, Boxy.”

“I know, ri--ah...ACK-CHOO!!” Boxman sneezed, a blubbery one sending snot and spit everywhere. Shivering, he said, “Y-You go on ahead and raid her...wherever she keeps her makeup. I’m gonna change outta these wet clothes before I catch a cold.”

* * *

Venomous discovered Cosma did not possess a vanity but simply kept all her makeup in a grandiose bathroom. It was there he saw his reflection in the enormous mirror above the sink, stretching across the entire wall. 

He didn’t fully believe Boxman’s words when he said he looked like ‘the prettiest thing’ he’s ever seen. He almost didn’t recognize his own reflection. His body looked so much different in the dress but...not in a bad way, he decided. Not entirely. Silly yes, but…

He rummaged through the drawers until he found one full of every possible makeup product. Relief washed over him when he found jet black eyeliner; an item of familiarity. Smiling, he uncapped the tip. As he applied it with a practiced hand, his mind wandered to the other products in the drawer. He spotted glue-on eyelashes, blush, a few shades of lipstick...

* * *

“Boxman! We know you’re in there!” Shouted Cosma as she banged against the door to her own bedroom. “If you don’t come out of there this instant, I’ll--”

The door opened, and there he stood. Boxman, clad in white bed sheets wrapped around him like a messy toga. A feathery boa sat atop his head like a childish wreath of leaves. 

Cosma and the rest of the curious villains standing behind her stared at him. Then she broke the silence, “Are those my bedsheets? And is that my boa?”

Feigning ignorance, Boxman glanced at his attire and coyly gasped. “Oh my! Are they? Oh, I’m so very, very sorry...NOT!” He guffawed.

Cosma facepalmed. “I don’t know if this is better or worse than I feared.”

“What’d you expect?”

“Something immature, idiotic, and childish. Like a panty raid.”

Boxman’s eyes lit up with mischief. “...Be right back!” Boxman quipped before slamming the door. It smashed into Cosma’s snout, causing her to yelp.

“GrrrRRAGH!!” Cosma roared. She spat fire, burning the door to a crisp. Stomping past the ashen remains of her door, she glared at Boxman, sitting in front of her drawers and rummaging for her underwear. “YOU!!”

“Eep!”

“Cosma? Boxy?” came a voice.

Everyone turned around, and collectively gasped. No one was as awestruck as Boxman, however.

A figure stood before them, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom. Clad in a shimmering dress fit for an emerald queen, the beautiful stranger studied them curiously. Their lips gleamed in black lipstick, matching the sharp eyeliner and long, lush lashes. And their lushious black locks of hair, just long enough to come to their chin, not a hair out of place except for a miniscule cowlick atop the crown of their head. A soft blush accented their cheeks, the pink mixing with the purple hue of their scaly skin.

“Professor Venomous?!” everyone gasped.

“No, I’m his gorgeous twin sister,” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s me.”

Cosma jabbed a finger at him. “Why the Glorb are you wearing my stuff too?!”

“Why are  _ you _ ?”

Cosma’s voice snagged in her throat. Then she scowled and barked, “That does  _ not _ answer my question! You! Boxman! Take off my clothes!”

“You want us to disrobe you?”

“I mean my clothes on you two imbiciles!”

“Ohhh, I see. I wasn’t aware you approved of streakers, Cosma.” Venomous chuckled. He felt like a different person wearing such glamorous dress and makeup. It made him want to joke and tease, while still being the villain that he is. It was a bubbly, giddy feeling.

She snarled while clawing at her hair, pulling hard enough to distort her face. “Just get out of my bedroom before I swallow you whole and you’ll never see the light of day ever again!!”

“Didn’t think you had such kinky taste, Cosma. Right, Boxy?” He craned his head to look behind Cosma and see Boxman. To his surprise, Boxman sat on the floor, awestruck, flabbergasted, eyes glazed over and drool threatening to escape his mouth.

“Boxy...?” Venomous pushed past Cosma and her piercing glare. He noticed though Boxman’s expression was blank, his eyes still seemed to follow him. Kneeling in front of him, he waved his hand in front of Boxman’s face. “Boxman?”

“Huhwuh?!” squaked Boxman. He shook his head violently, mussing up his hair. Then he blinked a few times, as if testing his perception of reality. He even rubbed his eyes. 

“Boxy, are you alright?”

“P-P-Pretty boy--” He stuttered, “I-I mean, pretty good! Yeah, pretty good!”

Venomous felt his cheeks grow warm at the subliminal compliment. Standing up, he offered Boxman his hand and pulled him to his feet. 

Cosma cleared her throat loudly. “If you two are done, can you  _ please _ stop ruining my party, for Glorb’s sake?”

“Oh!” Boxman grinned wickedly as he said, “Oh, we didn’t come here to ‘ruin’ your stuffy party.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out a handheld remote and held it in the air like a flare. His talloned thumb hovered over the large red button smack in the middle. “We came here to  _ destroy _ it!” Laughing maniacally, he grabbed Venemous’s hand with his free hand, and pushed the button.

The explosion passed like a blur. Venemous’s ears rang, but he didn’t mind at all, nor did he mind when they popped when he and Boxman were sent flying up into the atmosphere, miles above the wreckage. Boxman pushed the smaller button on the remote, and seconds later his rocket propelled desk swooped in from the clouds.

Boxman continued to laugh madly while Venomous clutched the edge of the mahogany desk. The wind ripped past him, running through his hair and ruffling his dress as his legs dangled off the side. He shrank into himself to conserve warmth, but smiled, despite the chill. 

Venomous realized something. “We left my car back there.”

The laughing stopped so suddenly it was like a record scratch. Boxman turned around, eyes wide with shame. “Uh...wanna turn around?”

“...No. It’s either demolished by that explosion or down Cosma’s gullet by now. Besides, it was worth it.”

“Right?” Boxman’s glee returned. “Did you see the looks on their faces when I pulled out the remote? Priceless!!”

“Did you have this planned the whole time? When did you place those explosives?”

“Of course! It was so easy, just a few sticks of dynamite here and there while ‘exploring’ her mansion. That’s crashing a party, Boxman style!”

“Wait, I thought Cosma invited you this time?”

“Yeah, right. But it’s not like she could say no once we got there! Bwahaha!”

“Ugh, I keep telling the others to…” Venomous dragged his hand down his face. “Next time we go to a party, we’re taking every. Single. Expensive dress they own.”

“Yeah, uh, about the whole dress thing…” Boxman grew sheepish, his fingers fiddling as if playing with invisible silly putty.

“Yes?” Venomous brushed his hair back behind his ear.

Rosy pink colored Boxman’s cheeks. “I-I just wanted to say you...you look really, really good in that dress.”

“For the third time tonight?”

“It-It’s still true! I mean, you’re always handsome and beautiful and-and--” 

“...You know what? I think I look good in it, too.” He rubbed the silken fabric between his fingers. At the back of his head, his thoughts lingered on experimenting with more dresses, more makeup, more styles, perhaps questioning and examining his gender identity. However, he kept these thoughts silent, for now. Now, as he stared at Boxman gazing at him with bright eyes, as he thought how cute it’d be to kiss his cheek, leaving behind a black lipstick stain, he knew one thing for sure.

He looked forward to what fun the future held.

**Author's Note:**

> If someone draws PV in the pwetty dress for me I will die happy and fulfilled :3


End file.
